


Cruelty Has a Human Heart

by GrecianUrn



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrecianUrn/pseuds/GrecianUrn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One rainy night Abigail shows up on Hannibal's doorstep and something is most definitely not alright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruelty Has a Human Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from William Blake's "The Songs of Experience: A Divine Image."

“Can I stay here?” Abigail Hobbs asked unsteadily as she stood in the doorway of Dr. Lecter’s home. The rain outside was relentless and it had obviously taken a toll on the girl standing on the doorstep.

“Come in. You are going to get sick.” Hannibal Lecter beckoned the girl in and shut the door behind her. “Come,” he said to her as he set off down the hall.

Abigail took off her shoes and then followed her mentor, shaking with the biting cold she had walked through. She followed him past the parts of his house that she knew until they came to an unfamiliar hallway.

Dr. Lecter stopped at a door and opened it, producing a towel. He turned to hand it to Abigail, but noticed that she was rather distracted. “Abigail.” There was no response. Something must have happened. He stepped toward her and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Abigail immediately flinched and jumped back. Indeed, something had happened to her. “Abigail, what happened?”

Her pale blue eyes fixed onto his, wide and startled. She did not want to tell him, but she didn’t want to not tell him. Her lips trembled as she cognitively battled herself to decide what she was going to do. “I don’t know if I want to tell you,” she answered candidly.

“Then tell me why you are here,” Hannibal suggested, looking down at the girl curiously.

“I feel safe around you,” Abigail admitted as she stared at the floor.

A sudden wave of feeling suddenly overcame Dr. Lecter as he observed the girl. He was not used to feeling such things, not since Mischa or Lady Murasaki, but he felt very protective of this girl. He gently placed his hand under Abigail’s chin and tilted her head up so she looked at him. “Something happened that made you feel unsafe?” She nodded and he felt a twisting in his gut as he watched her eyes well up. “But you feel safe now?” Another nod. He handed her the towel, not sure about how he wanted to handle the obviously distraught girl in front of him.

As Abigail dried her face off Hannibal realized that the towel was not going to do much, for her clothes were thoroughly soaked. “Come,” he told her, “You should change into something dry.” He walked past her back down the hall and then up the stairs, into his own room. “I apologize, but I am sure I have nothing that would suit you.” He said as he walked into his own closet. “I do not store apparel for guests. I am not accustomed to having ones that need clothing provided.”

Abigail remained silent, but she looked around Dr. Lecter’s room in interest. She snapped back to attention when she was handed a pair of men’s dark grey silk pajamas and a large black robe. She stared at the clothes and then back up at Hannibal.

“There is a bathroom you may use over there,” he motioned to a door across the room. “Feel free to shower and use whatever you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Abigail said softly as she turned and slowly walked toward the bathroom.

Upon entering the bathroom Abigail was taken aback by the ornateness of everything. It was large and so incredibly and tastefully decorated in such a sense that there was no way anyone but Hannibal Lecter could have come up with it. She hovered in front of the massive tub, but then moved toward the slate-tiled shower with so many heads and nozzles that she was sure to become exceedingly confused by it. She cautiously opened the glass door to the shower and turned on the biggest knob at the center. The largest stainless steel showerhead around the size of a dinner plate turned on. Abigail sighed in relief and proceed to peel her soaked clothing from her shivering body.

The shower was warm and comforting. The soaps and shampoo smelled like Hannibal, which further soothed her. Dare she tell Dr. Lecter how a man from group cornered her, roughed her up a bit, and tried to rape her? What would he do? Would he even be bothered? Her tears blended into the water that streamed down her face. She turned off the shower and rested her head against the cool stone wall of the shower as she let the Hannibal-scented steam billow around her.

Eventually she stepped out of the shower when she started to feel chilled and toweled herself off. She was disappointed to find that her undergarments were not the least bit dry from her walk in the pouring rain. She turned to the pajamas Dr. Lecter had provided her with a small smile. Did this mean he wanted her to spend the night and would not send her back to the hospital? She ran her hand over the sleek, soft fabric of the grey silk and felt a tingle in her spine. Dropping the burgundy towel to the floor, she picked up the pants and stepped into them. They felt magnificent, especially without anything else covering her. She then slid in the shirt and buttoned it up. She looked in the mirror and grimaced at the way her hardening nipples peaked the luxurious fabric, and immediately grabbed the plush black robe and threw it over her, not bothering to slide her arms through it.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom she found Dr. Lecter sitting in a chair across from the door reading a book. “Do you feel better after that?” He questioned, looking up from his book to watch her reactions.

“A bit, yes,” Abigail replied meekly.

Hannibal snapped the book shut, set it on the table beside him, and stood. He walked over to Abigail and stopped about two feet in front of her. The girl looked smaller, frail in his clothing, which only accentuated the way she was acting. “Will you tell me what happened?” He questioned again. There was still no response, but Abigail did look at him on her own this time. “Abigail, do you trust me?”

She nodded without hesitation. “It’s just… I don’t want you to be mad.”

The girl trusted him, this much was good, but why did she think he would be mad? She had never seen him act anything but calm. “What makes you think I would be mad? Would I be mad at you or someone else?”

Abigail’s mouth twitched sadly as her eyes wandered back down to the floor. “I’m not sure…”

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable sitting down.” Hannibal led her over to the chair he had been sitting on, and once she was seated he took a seat on the sturdy coffee table in front of her. “Is this something that you did or that someone else did to you?”

Abigail continued to look down. “It wasn’t something I did,” She replied softly, not lying, but not exactly saying that someone did something to her.

“I guarantee I will not be mad at you.” Hannibal assured the girl. He covered one of her pale hands with his larger one and tried to catch her wavering eyes.

“Some guy tried to rape me after group,” Abigail said softly. She immediately felt Hannibal’s grip tighten on her hand.

“Did you tell anyone at the hospital?” Hannibal asked, his voice sounded calm, but she knew that a fire was being lit on the inside.

“No, I just came here,” she said. “Don’t hurt him. Maybe he really isn’t that out of his mind and deserves it, but I know they’d be able to trace it back to us. They’ve already found Nicholas Boyle; I do not want to have to deal with another one.”

“Then we will report him,” Hannibal said, standing from the coffee table and producing his cell phone from one of his pockets.

“I do not want to have to go through more therapy because of this,” Abigail told him. Hannibal began to dial. “No!” She exclaimed and jumped up to snatch the phone away from him, but she tripped on the long ends of the robe and crashed into the coffee table. She yelped as the hard wood hit already-bruised spots on her body.

Hannibal stopped and put the phone back in his pocket, and bent to help Abigail up. “Are you alright?” He questioned when she was on her feet. The sleeves of the robe and pajamas had fallen back and he could see fresh bruises on her arms. His eyes narrowed as he moved back the collar of the robe Abigail was wearing. There was more bruising around her neck and shoulders. “Abigail,” he said her name, not really knowing how to convince her that she needed to report the man that had done this to her.

“Can I just stay here tonight and think about it in the morning. I just want to get it out of my head. If they make me go through more therapy can I just go to you?” She requested.

“I would not mind, but you would probably have to continue seeing Dr. Bloom.”

“I am not comfortable telling her so many things.” Abigail looked down.

Dr. Lecter’s hand moved to the side of her face, gently urging her to look back up. “There’s more.” That was not a question, he knew that she was hesitating about telling him more.

**Author's Note:**

> These two have been driving me insane since the first damn episode.  
> I am tired; I need sleep... I need to figure out what I am going to do with this.


End file.
